It occurred to her then that this was the first time someone had shared her kitchen while she cooked. While they cooked. Laura obviously knew her way around a kitchen, and she made quick work of the mushrooms. Before long, they were back outside, wineglasses in hand while the amazing aroma of green jerk chicken filled the air.

“I can’t wait to try that,” Laura said when Cassidy closed the lid on the grill. “How long?”

“It’s got to cook slow. A good thirty minutes, at least.”

They sat under the shade of the outdoor kitchen, the ceiling fan stirring the air around them. The sky was darkening to the south and she wondered if they might have rain later.

“It’s been a really good weekend,” Laura offered.

“I’ve enjoyed it too. Thanks for helping cook. I normally do that alone.”

“I didn’t realize I enjoy cooking as much as I do. When I lived alone, it was something I seldom did. Now, with Mom, I cook nearly every day.”

“During the week, I don’t cook much.”

“Dinner dates?”

Cassidy shook her head. “Not every night, no.” She smiled. “What? Do you think I have an unlimited number of women to choose from?”

“Don’t you?”

“Not really. I mean, I know a lot of people—women—but I don’t date all of them.”

“You have couple friends too, I guess. I mean—”

“The ones you’ve seen out at the pool?” At Laura’s blush, she laughed. “Just how well can you see from the windows up there?”

“From my bedroom, the pool is all but blocked by the maple tree. From my writing room, there’s a perfect view of the pool.”

“I see.” She leaned forward. “So…I do remember stripping one day. Were you watching then?”

Again, a very cute blush covered Laura’s face. “I, of course, was looking at the blonde and not you, smarty-pants.”

Cassidy laughed, knowing Laura was lying. She had made no secret that the women Cassidy had brought over did nothing for her.

“You have the worst taste in women.”

She sighed. Yeah, she did.

* * *

“Oh, my goodness! This is amazing,” Laura said as she licked at the green sauce at the corner of her mouth. “Just spicy enough. Tender. Juicy.”

“Glad you like it. And glad that you know how to eat a chicken drumstick properly—with your fingers.”

“Growing up, I used to fight Carla for the drumsticks. She was quick, but I had longer arms.” Laura paused. “So when you made this the last time…who was it?”

“Ashly.”

“Right. Ashly…the model you didn’t sleep with. When you made it then, what?”

“Knife and fork.”

“Oh my God! To eat a drumstick? What’s the point?”

“Exactly.”